


Big Timber

by restingkovicface



Series: Winnipeg [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, the lads and whatnot eventually come in later, the winnipeg aspect comes sometime soon as well lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restingkovicface/pseuds/restingkovicface
Summary: Four years after "Heat," Geoff encounters an alarming face.





	

It feels like it could be snowing, forty-five minutes outside of Big Timber, Montana. There's an uncomfortable chill in the air that morning, and Geoff's bare feet on the stone floor of this ancient goddamn school does  _not_ help him feel less frostbitten.

He digs through his unpacked suitcases, searching desperately for any pair of thick socks he can find, almost moaning in relief when he find a stained, too-big pair and puts them on. It's not the most efficient barrier between his skin and the floor, but it'll do for now. In addition to the socks, he pulls a sweatshirt from one of the many colleges he attended over his head, basking in the familiar warmth it provides.

Before he can sit down to work out the minute details of his lesson plans, he's surprised by a knock on his door. He smiles widely when he opens the door to find Gus, one of his old college pals, looking as cold and pissed off as Geoff felt, holding two mugs of steaming black coffee.

Geoff is more than grateful for Gus and all the string pulling and vouching he had to do in order to snag him this shit-paying teaching job in the middle of God-only-knows U.S.A -- really, he owes Gus more than he can offer in return, and then some.

"Ohh, Gus," Geoff moans, taking one of the mugs out of Gus' hand. "You're an angel."

"Yeah, I know," Gus snorts. He steps into Geoff's room without invitation and clicks on the shitty little space heater at the foot of Geoff's twin sized bed. "You're gonna want to get something better than this--" he gestures to the space heater-- "if you plan on surviving the winter here,"Gus tells him, half-joking, before taking a seat on the gaudy love-seat that came with the room.

"Speaking of which," Geoff says, not addressing Gus' scrutiny of his heater, "why didn't you tell me it would be so goddamn cold here? It's  _September_ for Christ's sake."

"Because then you wouldn't have come, stupid. Besides, a change of scenery will be good for you. Arizona's hot as Hell. I can't even imagine why you were there in the first place."

Geoff huffs bitterly, knowing Gus is probably right. He can't deny, even with his toes feeling like they're about to chip off at any slight pressure, he's sort of drawn to the place. There's a kind of magic in the air that roots him, makes him feel more at home here than he has anywhere else. It's unnerving, when he really thinks about it, but he tries to not do that.

In any case, he definitely doesn't regret coming. This entire place is like a poet's wet dream -- soaring landscapes, easily romanticized seasons and a quiet, serene peace blanketing the entire state.

But, as if God himself were looking for something to counteract the perfection, Geoff has to live in a school filled with two hundred of the mid-west's richest twelve to eighteen year old boys for the next ten months. It all feels like a big cosmic joke.

"Now, to get down to business," Gus says. "Are you coming to teacher night?"

Geoff raises his eyebrows. "Will there be alcohol?"

"Duh," Gus laughs. "Why the hell do you think I'm going?"

"Well, count me in."

"Alright. I'll see you later tonight," Gus says. He pats Geoff on the back before leaving, graciously closing the door behind him as he goes.

Geoff sips his coffee and turns to his desk. Lesson plans are staring him in the face, but his mind is cluttered with the thought of breakfast. Luckily, the students don't move into their rooms until tomorrow, meaning the cafeteria is full of only teachers, like himself. 

He set down his coffee and pulled on a pair of sleep pants and slippers before venturing out into the building. The teachers quarters are decorated rather plainly when compared to the rest of the school.There are only a few paintings and a dark red rug on the English floor, and the other four floors look almost identical.

Geoff's room is located furthest from the stairs on the right side of the hall of the top level of the school's rear, easternmost tower. The fourth floor houses the four math teachers, and following them on the subsequent floors are the five history, science, and elective teachers, respectively.

His room shares a right hand wall with the attractive grade ten teacher, who is only a few years older than him. Directly across from her lives the grades eight and nine teacher, a severe looking older woman with sleek silver hair. She reminds him of a teacher he used to have when he was around fourteen, whom he, of course, hated then but appreciates now; he's sure her students end up more than prepared for their high school years.

In fact, all of the teachers there look quite serious -- even the grades six and seven teacher, despite looking as if he's on his last stretch of life. Their demeanor has been making Geoff mildly insecure of his own appearance. Not only is he the youngest (recently twenty-eight), but he's also covered in more tattoos than he can count, all over his arms, chest, and legs.

He'd managed to luck out with the long sleeved uniform, but sleeves don't really cover the fresh black ink on his hands and fingers. That, coupled with the dirty look he received from the older teachers on move-in day (when almost all of his tattoos were visible, thanks to his favourite old t-shirt) made him nervous to leave his room at all, let alone properly introduce himself to his floormates.

He gives an uncomfortable nod to the grade ten teacher, who's entering her room with a cup of coffee in hand, and she replies with an equally awkward half-smile before quickly closing her door.

Geoff sighs, making his way down the hall and toward the stairs. Unfortunately, the trek from the teacher's quarters to the cafeteria, near the student halls, is an exhausting one, filled with too many flights of stairs and long, winding corridors.

The entire school literally looks like a castle, with its stone everything, tall towers, enormous gardens, and wrought iron fences. All of the furniture looks ancient, as do the paintings and sculptures, and Geoff is surprised that architecture of this caliber even exists this far west.

With his slippers scratching the floor and the biting wind seeping in through small fissures in the walls, it wouldn't be hard for him to believe he's actually in New England.

That is, if he never saw outside.

None of the windows in the school are stained glass, except for the ones out front on the entrance hall, giving Geoff a clear view of a small lunchtime courtyard on his right and on his left an even better view of the forest and mountains behind the school, broken only by the lake, rec yard, and fields used for soccer and lacrosse.

The courtyard itself is filled with neatly trimmed shrubs, bright white flowers, and a currently dry marble fountain. The lunch tables for the older students are freshly whitewashed, scattered symmetrically throughout the yard.

It's strange, and kind of eerie, to see it empty, with the fountain turned off; like a picture he isn't meant to see. He turns his attention, instead, to the rows and rows of trophy cases, class pictures dating back to before his grandparents were even alive, and headmaster portraits lining the walls around the windows.

Gus is standing near the entryway to the cafeteria, laughing with one of the teachers Geoff has yet to meet -- a tall, broad chested guy with curly, close cropped hair.

"Geoff," Gus says as Geoff gets nearer. "Meet Burnie. He teaches organic chemistry to the year twelves."

"Hi, Burnie Burns," Burnie says, sticking out a hand for Geoff to take. "I hear you're taking Old Jefferson's place." Geoff chuckles, recognizing the name from his interview with Hullum, the current headmaster. Jefferson was unpopular, to say the least.

"Yep," he confirms. "English eleven and twelve."

Burnie laughs. "Good luck, man. There are some year elevens that'll have you ripping your beard out by October."

"Alright," Gus interrupts. "Y'all go get some food. I'll catch up with you later tonight, Geoff."

Geoff waves goodbye to Gus, who's heading back towards the teacher's tower, and allows Burnie to steer him into the cafeteria and towards one of the long wooden tables near the right wall, where two men and a woman are sitting. Some other teachers are standing around and talking, but most seem to either still be asleep, or have retreated to their rooms.

The woman at the table sees them approaching first and stands up to greet Burnie with a kiss. Her long blonde hair has been thrown into a sloppy pony tail, permitting small strands of hair to frame her angular face.

"This is my wife Ashley," Burnie says, resting a hand on her shoulder as they all sit. "That's Jack --" he gestures to the guy with the impressive ginger beard that Geoff has sat beside -- "and that's Brandon, a fellow member of the science department." The mousy looking, dark haired man smiles awkwardly at Geoff. "Everyone, this is Geoff. Taking Old Jefferson's place in the English department."

Geoff's seat is at the end of the long table, giving him a nice view of the rest of the cafeteria. The teachers beside him have gone back to listening intently to something Brandon is saying, but another group of teachers across the room have caught Geoff's attention.

Two of them are women, one with enough tattoos to rival his own -- a sight which settles his previous anxieties about his own -- and one wearing large glasses; the latter, he notices, continues to sneak looks at Jack. The other two are men. One has his back to Geoff, and the other is sitting sideways, giving Geoff a view of his profile, framed by wild black hair and short stubble on his chin.

"Hey, Jack," Geoff whispers, pulling the other mans attention away from Brandon.

"Hey, Geoff," Jack mirrors, putting his now empty glass of orange juice on the table in front of him.

"Someone's staring at you," Geoff tells him, motioning his head towards the other table. Jack glances to the table Geoff pointed out and kind of chuckles.

"That's Caiti," Jack tells him. "She's the art teacher. We sort of dated when she first started here a few years ago."

Geoff raises an eyebrow. "Dat _ed_? Like, past-tense?"

Jack nods glumly. "Until Hullum came in. He's a nice guy and all, more than qualified for his job, but he's a real hardass on workplace relationships." Geoff glances briefly towards Burnie and Ashley, who are laughing at something one of them had said. Jack must've noticed, because he adds: "Burnie and Ashley get away with it because they've been married for a while now. Before Hullum worked here."

"Oh," Geoff says lamely. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay," Jack says with a small smile. "I'll catch up with you later, though. Bye, guys." He says the last part to the rest of the table.

There's a small chorus of "Bye, Jack"'s before Jack collects his trash and leaves. Brandon scoots over on the bench to sit beside Geoff before Ashley launches into another discussion that can barely hold Geoff's attention.

The other table of teachers has caught Geoff's eye once again. This time, the two men have left the table and are heading for the west exist, with their backs facing him. Instantly, there's an itching in Geoff's legs, something telling him  _Go, now, say something --_  

"Excuse me," Geoff says suddenly, standing and surprising himself along with the rest of the table. "I gotta go."

"What?" Burnie cries. "You haven't even gotten food yet!"

"I know --" Geoff falters, trying to think of a convincing lie.

"Whatever," Burnie says bitterly. "I'll see you later, then."

Geoff purses his lips, knowing that will come back to bite him in the ass. But, as he heads towards the west exit, he can't seem to be bothered with it.

He can see the two men have turned right, presumably to head back towards the teacher's annex, down the same hall down which Geoff walked earlier. They're already three quarters of the way down by the time Geoff turns the corner, and he's in danger of breaking out into a full on sprint just to stay caught up with them.

Halfway down the hall, he can hear their two sets of feet start descending the staircase on the right, towards the bottom floor of the tower. Now filled with inexplicible urgency, he's basically trotting past rows and rows of ancient paintings and trophy cases and windows and staircases just to (hopefully) make it in time to say --

His heart sinks when he hears the closing of two heavy wooden doors on the electives' floor. He briefly considers going up to the maths floor and knocking on Gus' door to ask him who the hell those guys are, but, instead, he's filled with white hot embarrassment and starts up the stairs to his own room.

When he finally makes it to his room, wheezing and coughing, he's sweating under his sweatshirt and pants. He opens the small window over his desk, in place of exerting the effort of taking them off, and pulls out two of his American Spirits from their brown packaging before slumping into his desk chair and taking a big gulp of the now cold coffee Gus had brought him earlier.

Lighting one of the cigarettes, not even bothering to look at the lesson plans in front of him, he's beginning to think a little more rationally.

The sun has already risen over the mountains, washing the still green trees underneath him in warm autumn light. The first drag makes his head spin, and the second one calms him down.

 _Surely they'll be at the event tonight,_ Geoff reasons.  _Surely._

* * *

Geoff stares into the door mirror of his chifferobe. He's feeling okay over all, but it's hard to ignore the way his palms are sweating and how he can't stop swallowing. Still. It's nothing he can't handle.

If anything, he still looks good. His beard is neatly trimmed, the dark blue sweater and white plaid dress shirt make his eyes pop, and his hair seems to be on its best behaviour.

There's nothing he can do about the dark bags under his eyes, though, and there's an irritating, migraine inducing lemon scent on his skin from the school's complimentary soap.

Before he can act impulsively and shred every inch of skin off of his body, like he wants to do, Gus is knocking on his door for the third time in the past ten minutes, demanding that Geoff hurry.

Geoff quickly closes his chifferobe door and stuffs his cigarettes in the pocket of his jeans before stepping outside to meet Gus.

The other man stops tapping his foot to give Geoff a puzzled once-over. "Aren't you hot?" he asks, eyeing Geoff's navy sweater in particular.

"No," Geoff answers quickly, feeling suddenly self conscious and over-dressed.

It's only a cool sixty something degrees outside, and it's certainly not a thick sweater, but Gus' plain white shirt and sports coat make him feel like a highschooler again, at his girlfriend's place for dinner with the family. Not like a goddamn adult with a goddamn PhD.

Gus just shrugs, turning to lead Geoff down the tower's steps. His body language tells Geoff that he's clearly annoyed -- walking just slightly ahead, hands in his pockets, stepping just a bit too hard on each step.

Geoff breathes out slow. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know," he tells Gus in a half- assed attempt at apologizing.

"I know" is all Gus offers in return, sparking a flash of anger throughout Geoff's skull.

They stay silent the rest of the walk over. They climb several sets of stairs to make it to the third floor of the west wing, past the courtyard, and into a small ballroom, directly attached to the enormous multilevel garden.

Despite there only being twenty three teachers total, there are at least a hundrend people here tonight. It seems that others either brought their spouse and children, or at least some friends or family -- again, Geoff becomes mildly self conscious, hyperaware of his beacon of loneliness. Especially when Gus splits without a single word to him.

Geoff can feel his teeth grind, watching Gus walk away like that. Instead of stewing, he forces himself into the crowd of people to find someone -- anyone -- to talk to, or a conversation he can at least eavesdrop on.

He sees Burnie across the room, standing with Ashley and talking to another couple. He glances up at Geoff briefly but instantly turns more to face Ashely, his back to Geoff.

Geoff groans internally, turning on his heel to make a beeline to the bar.  _Is fucking everyone mad at you, Geoffrey?_ he thinks _. Jesus Christ._

He orders a jack and coke (neat) and downs it in one go, eased by the familiar burn of the whiskey. He orders another one, prompting a raised eyebrow from the bartender.

He almost snaps, almost says something too nasty, but he bites his tongue. He's better off keeping the "Pissed at Geoff" list as short as possible. He takes his new drink and sips it slower, glancing up and down the bar to see anyone else he recognizes.

Luckily, he finds Jack at the far end of the bar, talking animately with the dark haired man Geoff had seen this morning -- partner missing.

He feels himself moving towards them, stepstepstepping to the tune of a false bravado urged by that same strange magic from before. Fortunately, before the warm courage in Geoff's legs can give out, Jack sees him and waves him over.

"Geoff!" Jack exclaims when Geoff's nearer, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good to see you man. Hey, meet my buddy Joel --" Geoff and Joel shake each others hand vigorously -- "he takes care of the economics and statistics courses."

Joel gives a very muted nod, smiling as he takes a swig of the beer in his hand.

"You're the new English teacher, huh?" he asks Geoff. It almost makes Geoff jump out of his skin; he talks like a dog barking in a silent room -- quick, sharp, jarring.

Geoff nods. "Elevens and twelves."

"You seem young." It isn't a question.

"Twenty-eight," Geoff answers anyway, slightly confused. Joel doesn't look much older than him.

 "Cool," Joel says after a beat, then wanders away from the group without another word.

Geoff turns to Jack, who is also working his way through a beer. "What the hell was that?"

Jack chuckles. "Yeah, Joel's a bit of a character. Brilliant mind, though."

"I'm sure," Geoff mumbles, gulping down the last of his drink and placing the glass on the counter.

He watches Jack's expression soften then, as he looks out into the crowd. Following his line of site, he sees Caiti standing against another wall, talking to another woman. 

Geoff sighs internally. "Hey man, I'll see you later," he says to Jack.

"Alright, later," Jack half mumbles, not turning to look at Geoff.

Geoff walks away from the bar to linger around the outside of the crowd. The magic that sparked his bravery before has evaporated, leaving him more tired than he was before, and, suddenly, stifilingly hot.

His swear feels uncomfortably tight, and he fumbles with it as he makes his way towards the door to the garden, praying for some breath of fresh air or just something different and open and new --

Stepping outside feels like an anchor being lifted from his chest. Sweater in hand, he takes a deep breath, pulls out and lights a cigarette, and looks around.

It feels nicer outside, definitely -- or maybe not. His brain doesn't seem to be working at full capacity right now, playing tricks on him and dragging him places for reasons he can't understand.

Maybe he's too angry at Burnie and Gus and Jack, maybe, or maybe he's just feeling lonely this far north but he can't put his feelings into words and it's making his heart pound and his head spin and he's a  _writer_ for Christ's sake but nothing's making sense and --

In a moment of clarity, he follows a cobble path down onto the second part of the three tier garden where there are wooden benches, on which he collapses.

He doesn't realize he's shaking until he takes another long drag. The tobacco settles his nerves but makes him sick to his stomach, making each breath feel like a scoop of gravel that turns to lead at the bottom of his stomach and all the rocks are piling up and soon he feels like he's suffocating and puking up the drinks from earlier, his coffee from this morning.

Head between his knees, he feels much better in this position, embarrassingly vulnerable and filled with mild indignation.

He swings his head up a bit too quickly, stars dancing in his eyes, and rests it on the back of the bench, stretching his legs over the contents of his stomach on the dirt.

The sun is still blazing in the sky, even as it's beginning to set, washing the garden in warm amber light, exaggerating shadows, and hugging every petal of every open, white flower. Geoff feels himself calming down now; the scents of gardenias and daffodils and lavender and some other violently white flowers he can't name all blend well together.

The wind picks up then. It makes the bushes around him dance, shuffling lightly to a song Geoff can't hear. It stirs his hair too, morphing it from its neat facade to something much more like himself.

Cool wind on his face and a receeding headache, he feels strong enough to walk around now. He makes his way to the stone balcony over the final level of the garden.

Below him, the final tier is splayed out, stretching the length of two football fields. White flowers are growing in every nook and cranny, towering green hedges separating the garden from the forest around it. The fountains here are turned off as well, and the stone looks unnaturally dry, on the verge of cracking and crumbling at the next strong wind. Maybe he's projecting.

The sun is setting further now, taking its sweet time and showering everything in burning pinks and reds, soaking all of the flowers and dry fountains, dribbling down the cobblestone paths, and settling under the stone.

It's such a peaceful scene, Geoff could've fallen asleep right there if it weren't for the quickly dropping temperature and the tall figure meandering between plants -- a man wearing a navy broadcloth shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Geoff's eye is drawn to him, moving slowly and carelessly through the garden, arms clapsed behind him, fingers teasing the back pockets of his blue jeans. As Geoff continues watching him, something seems to grow in his chest. It's like a bouquet of manic energy blooming around his heart and lungs, spilling through his ribs and moving him away from the balcony and to the top of the final staircase.

The other man stops every so often to smell certain flowers or to look up at the sunset. He takes out a hand to run it through his long-ish hair, and Geoff swallows hard when he notices the familiar way the other man's hair flips out in the back.

The new magic in his chest pushes him down the stairs, but a newfound caution hold him back, making him linger just far enough away to not get caught, but still with enough energy that Geoff is sure he would break into a full on sprint to catch him.

It's dramatically stupid, Geoff knows that much. There's nothing rational about his actions, but he can't stop moving, windng his way through small hedge mazes and past still fountains just to get a better look at the guy.

 _What are you even going to say, Geoffrey?_ he thinks, moving more towards the centre of the centre of the garden when he sees a flash of dark blue material move behind a tall hedge. He runs through the possibilities in his head, trying to invent any plausible excuse to say _something_  that doesn't make him look like a stalker or a creep. 

He can go the cheesy romcom route -- "I saw you and I knew I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't say something," but even that makes him want to retch. Besides, he's not even sure if it's himself making the decisions at this point. Is it God? Magic? Fate? He doubts all of those.

But, the racing heart and tingling in his palms make him really believe magic is in the works. Geoff has to find him, to see him, to speak to him --

And he's stopped dead in his tracks.

He's unmistakable, sitting on one of the benches surrounding a waterless fountain, legs stretched out and feet crossed in front of him, dark blue shirt wrinkled around the collar and shoulders.

His head is leaning back to look up at the dark pink and orange clouded sunset, washing his pale throat and stubbled jaw in golden light; he looks more like a Greek bust than Geoff properly remembers, but all the features are still there -- solid jaw; thick waves of hair; strong, prominent nose, crooked slightly to the right, pointing away from Geoff.

He hasn't noticed Geoff yet, standing slightly behind him, floundering with his words, a fish out of water. Geoff knows he should say something dramatic, romantic, even, remembering just four years ago when everything smelled like alcohol and greasy food and the cigarettes in his car and he could feel his heart pounding in his feet, and it's all coming back now as he stands there, feeling abnormally warm in the rapidly declining temperature.

Every romantic scenario runs through his head -- running up and hugging him, crying his name over and over again, professing his insurmountable crush to him as the sun goes down behind them, bringing him back to his room to show him all the embarrassing journal entries Geoff has written about him, an overly romanticized recollection of events, a potential love that got away, and the story of an angry, gangly twenty four year old too afraid of commitmentt to even stay in town, jumping as he could from school to school across the country, finishing his PhD too early and regretting not slowing down long enough to take any real feelings seriously.

But now, as the sun sets further and the light posts around them automatically turn on, his old self makes an appearance, and there's a burning sensation in his gut that throws all of that manic energy into the air like ashes -- a warning telling him to get out now you're in over your head he doesn't remember he doesn't care -- and he goes to turn, to escape the situation now, until he (say his name, stupid, you remember his name, say it) turns his head and makes eye contact with Geoff.

Both of their jaws drop.

Instead of his heart pouding its way through Geoff's chest and running away, he's certain now that it has stopped completely. Fozen by his eyes --  _Ryan's eyes, Geoffrey_ \-- he can't even think. Any attempt turns into the short haphazard breaths that are barely keeping him standing.

"Holy shit," Ryan breathes. "Geoff?"

Geoff wants to respond, tries to, even, but he can hear sirens in his brain now, telling him to get out now this place is unsafe -- and he runs.

He turns on his heel and sprints, like a child, through the darkening garden and away from Ryan, as far away as he can get.

"Geoff, wait!" He can hear Ryan behind him, calling his name and trying to keep up.

Geoff takes an alternate route back to his room, avoiding the party at all costs and praying he can get there before Ryan can catch him. Winding his way through the fucking castle of a school, he manages to make it back without getting lost.

He realizes all to quickly, when he reaches the stairs to the tower and can still hear Ryan's footsteps behind him, that an alcoholic's general health coupled with an avid chainsmoker's physical inactivity doesn't make for an ideal sprinter.

Chest burning and spit thick in his mouth, he begins ascending the stairs two at a time, heart sinking in his chest when he hears Ryan behind him, panting, "Geoff, please stop --"

But Geoff's made it to his floor. He begins fumbling with his room key, only just pushing it into the lock when he sees Ryan come up from the stairs, drenched in sweat and a pleading look in his eyes.

"Geoff!" he tries one last time.

Geoff slams the door too loudly, locking it behind him and sinking to the floor when Ryan knocks once.

"Please."

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be continued!!! The next part will likely be a multichapter fic, but, since I (clearly) am extremely horrible at updating, I'm not sure how quickly I'll have finished it. I'm sorry for the long delay!! Leave kind words <3(^:


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